Numbing the Pain
by Stella McCoy
Summary: Jocelyn and Leonard have just separated. Jocelyn's gone with Treadway, and Leonard tries to sort through the pain it caused. Based on the Trek novel "Shadows on the Sun" by Michael Jan Friedman, but can be read alone.


Numbing the Pain

Numbing the Pain

By: Stella McCoy

The Star Trek series is owned by Paramount. I own Al the monk and the plot. Don't sue me, I haven't got anything worth taking. Problems? You know where to find me. Ja!

Leonard McCoy sat on the windowsill, gazing half-heartedly at the heavens above him. Right now, he'd rather be among them than on Earth. One could easily get lost in the heavens, but on Earth it was a little harder. "Jocelyn," he whispered, raising the bottle of Scotch to his lips, too tired to comprehend the fact that he hated Scotch. "It could have worked."

He knew, deep down, that it wouldn't have. He and Jocelyn had always fought terribly, and the divorce hadn't really come as a surprise. But that hadn't stopped the shock, and he was in withdrawal from the world. Jocelyn had left him for Treadway, the living God, and he had to accept that.

The door creaked open, and his childhood friend Al was there. Al was a monk in this monastery where he sought refuge from the world. Though he refused to eat, they often made him anyway. "Hey, Len," Al said softly, setting the tray of food down. "Come and eat."

"Hello, Al," Leonard said dully, tracing the crooked lines of Pegasus. "Come to force-feed me?"

"You need to eat," Al insisted, taking the Scotch and handing him black coffee. "You can't go to space in this condition, and the monastery can't keep you forever."

"Not gunna go," Leonard muttered, heedlessly burning his tongue with the coffee. "Ain't got anythin' there."

"You haven't got much here, either," Al said kindly, bringing him the roast beef sandwich. "Starships are always in need of doctors, and you're going to be in the Fleet, right?"

Leonard chewed the sandwich, knowing Al wouldn't leave until he did. "Wha' about Joanna? Jocelyn cain't take her."

Al smiled. This was the most he'd spoken in weeks. "Leslie took her to Centaurus. She can stay there, and you can visit on leave."

Leonard looked out at the sky again. "Starships are flyin' embassies," he said, watching a shooting star streak across the sky. "At any moment, we might be assigned to ferry the Treadways somewhere." It stung saying 'Treadway' and knowing that Jocelyn was no longer his wife.

Al shrugged. "You can spend your life shut up from the world, watching the stars, or you can be out there making the difference between life and death, as doctors should."

Leonard sighed. "Righ' now, I'm a drunk, not a doctor."

Al smiled. "You're making too much sense to be THAT drunk."

Leonard got up and yanked the Scotch back. "Then I'll just get drunk'r."

"You're a mess, Leonard McCoy," Al said, taking the tray. "But not even Jocelyn wants to see you closed up with a bottle of Scotch, which you claim to hate." He paused, regarding his friend. "You've picked quite a prison for yourself. Quiet, dark, empty, and no decent liquor to drown yourself in." With that he left.

"Ouch," was the only thing Leonard could bring himself to say.

The weeks went by, leaving Leonard to withdraw farther into himself. He slept fitfully during the day and traced the constellations of the autumn sky at night. None of the monks ventured near him save Al, who tried to bring back the old Leonard. "Here Len," he said, shoving a piece of paper into his hand. "Message from Centaurus."

Leonard drew the back of his hand across his mouth, wiping away any stray Scotch. He looked at it, reading silently.

"Hi, Dad!

How are you? It's lonely without you. Aunt Leslie and Uncle John took me to the museums here, but they aren't very fun. When are you coming to see me? I miss you.

Lots of Love,

Joanna"

Leonard looked up, eyes wavering. Despite the fact that Leslie had written it for Joanna, it still sounded like his daughter. Joanna would be six in July, he realized. "Al," he said softly, "how long have I been here?"

"About a month," Al answered.

Leonard snorted. "Why'd ya let me stay cooped up in this prison? I got to head for Starfleet. I've got a commission to get."

Al simply smiled, and led the way out.

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